ncy they can. Do you find it dull
down here?"

"Dull!" she exclaimed wonderingly. "I think that there can be no place
on earth so beautiful as Tredowen."

"You are happy here?"

"Perfectly!"

"Then, for heaven's sake, forget all this folly," Wingrave said hardly.
"London is no place for children. Miss Harrison can take you up for a
month when you choose. You can go abroad if you want to. But for the
rest--"

She rose suddenly, and sweeping across the office with one graceful
movement, she leaned over Wingrave's chair. Her hands rested upon
his shoulders, her eyes, soft with gathering tears, pleaded with his.
Wingrave sat with all the outward immobility of a Sphinx.

"Dear Sir Wingrave," she said, "you have been so generous, so kind, and
I may not even speak of my gratitude. Don't please think me unreasonable
or ungracious. I can't tell you how I feel, but I must, I must, I must
go away. I could not live here any longer now that I know. Fancy for
a moment that I am your sister, or your daughter! Don't you believe,
really, that she would feel the same? And I think you would wish her to.
Don't be angry with me, please."

Wingrave's face never changed; but his fingers gripped the arms of his
chair so that a signet ring he wore cut deep into his flesh. When he
spoke, his tone sounded almost harsh. The girl turned away to dash the
tears from her eyes.

"What do you think of this--folly, Pengarth?"

The lawyer looked his best client squarely in the face. "I do not call
it folly, Sir Wingrave. I think that Miss Lundy is right."

There was a pause. Her eyes were still pleading with him.

"Against the two of you," Wingrave remarked, "I am, of course,
powerless. After all, it is no concern of mine. I shall leave you,
Pengarth, to make such arrangements as Miss Lundy desires!"

He rose to his feet. Juliet now was pale. She dashed the tears from her
eyes and looked at him in amazement mingled with something which was
almost like despair.

"You don't mean," she exclaimed, "you are going away without coming to
Tredowen?"

"Why not?" he asked. "I never had any intention of going there!"

"You are very angry with me," she cried in despair. "I--I--"

Her lip quivered. Wingrave interposed.

"I shall be happy to go and have a look at the place," he said
carelessly, "if you will drive me back. I fancy I have almost forgotten
what it is like."

She looked at him as at one who had spoken irreverently. Her eyes were
fu